e terror
of the bonfire, engendering cowardice and debasing suspected men."

"In this way we can understand," said Gabriel, "the cynical confession
of the Canon Llorente explaining why he became secretary to the Holy
Office: 'They began to roast, and in order not to be roasted I took on
me the part of roaster.' For intelligent men there was nothing else
to be done. How could they resist and rebel? The king, master of all
lives and property, was only the servant of bishops, friars, and
familiars. The kings of Spain, except the first Bourbons, were nothing
but servants of the Church; in no country has been seen as palpably
as in this one the solidarity between Church and State. Religion
succeeded in living without the kings, but the kings could not exist
without religion. The fortunate warrior, the conqueror who founded
a throne, had no need of a priest. The fame of his exploits and his
sword were enough for him, but as death drew near he thought of his
heirs, who would be unable to dispose of glory and fear to make
themselves respected as he had done, and he drew near to the priest,
taking God as a mysterious ally who would watch over the preservation
of the throne. The founder of a dynasty reigned 'by the grace of
strength' but his descendants reigned 'by the grace of God.' The king
and the Church were everything for the Spanish people. Faith had made
them slaves by a moral chain that no revolutions could break; its
logic was indisputable--the belief in a personal God, who busied
Himself with the most minute concerns of the world, and granted His
grace to the king that he might reign, obliged them to obey under pain
of going to hell. Those who were rich and well placed in the world
grew fat, praising the Lord who created kings to save men the trouble
of governing themselves; those who suffered consoled themselves by
thinking that this life was but a passing trial, after which they
would be sure to gain a little niche in heaven. Religion is the best
of all auxiliaries to the kings; if it had not existed before the
monarchs these last would have invented it. The proof is that in these
times of doubt they are firmly anchored to Catholicism, which is the
strongest prop of the throne. Logically the kings ought to say, 'I am
king because I have the power, because I am supported by the army.'
But no, senor, they prefer to continue the old farce and say, 'I, the
king, by the grace of God.' The little tyrant cannot leave the lap